Goodbye, Lovino
by 94 Bottles Of Snapple
Summary: Sitting on the kitchen table was a note that laid everything bare.
1. The Words

**A/N: So… I was feeling angsty. Really, really angsty. And this is what happened. Basically a suicide letter written by Romano. Because, seriously, he is somehow the most tragic character in Hetalia.**

**I don't own Hetalia**

* * *

><p>My name is Lovino Vargas.<p>

I represent the southern half of Italy.

And today, I am going to die.

Oh, no, no, no, don't worry.

I mean if you were worrying.

It's completely understandable if you weren't worried.

After all.

No one else is.

But then again.

That's understandable too.

After all, what is Lovino Vargas?

Nothing too important.

Didn't you know, nobody likes that guy?

Not his grandfather.

Or his brother.

Or his caretaker.

Or anyone else in the whole world.

… Don't believe me, huh?

No, of course not.

You wouldn't.

But, here.

Let me show you.

If Lovino Vargas died today…

What do you think everyone would do?

Nothing.

Absolutely nothing.

And I can prove that to you.

Because.

Lovino Vargas is not stupid.

He is a master at reading people.

And he knows exactly what will happen today when he dies.

* * *

><p><strong>Of Roma:<strong>

Nonno Rome will be up in heaven.

Appalled.

At his eldest heir's impudence.

What a selfish fool.

Thinking he can just go and die like that.

It's not that it matters he's gone.

But.

Now he's not there to protect Feliciano.

He's not there to take care of Rome's dear grandson.

His only grandson.

Because.

Lovino does not count.

He was a mistake.

He was always a mistake.

His art was nothing compared to his brother's.

He is not cheerful, is not kind.

He is angry and rude and feels nothing.

Surely.

Because such a horrid child can feel nothing.

That's why it was ok.

To ignore him.

He didn't feel anything.

Didn't ache for the attention bestowed on his brother.

Of course not.

Why would a child like that need love?

Or affection.

So he is gone.

Trying to get out of the burdens that were his to bear.

The things he had to do.

Because in the end, Rome gave his inheritance to him.

To this ungrateful, worthless child.

Why, he doesn't know.

Doesn't recall.

That was a mistake as well, he is sure.

But at least.

That child is gone now.

And there is only one Italy.

Like there always should have been.

And he is Rome's beloved grandson.

* * *

><p><strong>Of Italy:<strong>

Italy will be surprised.

Shocked.

He'll cry.

He'll look to Germany for comfort.

But he won't really care.

Italy cries about everything.

But he'll be fine.

Some pasta.

Some attention.

Condolences from the world.

Even though they don't give a shit either.

Yeah, then he'll forget.

Brother?

Big Brother?

Who?

Spain, you mean?

Or France?

No, I have no other brother.

South?

Unification?

These words will mean nothing to him.

Just smiles and pasta.

And forgetting.

But.

Honestly.

Even if the whole world knew.

Knew these thoughts he would think.

Who could blame him?

Who would want a sibling like that?

Always cursing and shouting.

Being enemies to your friends.

Always making some sort of trouble.

And it's not like anyone else will remember.

After all…

Italy is Italy.

His brother is just Romano.

Even though they are unified.

One nation.

There has only ever been one Italy.

* * *

><p><strong>Of Spain:<strong>

Spain will still smile.

That's what he always does.

Just smile.

Even if it hurts a bit.

But he'll be perfectly fine, too.

Because.

Italy is still alive.

And he is the better brother.

Doesn't reject affection.

Cute, and not mouthy.

Not clumsy and defensive.

He was never kidnapped as a child.

He would never have cost Spain as much money.

It was why he tried to trade them.

He apologized for it, back then.

Because Lovino was still a child.

And you have to be careful with children.

But Lovino always knew.

In his heart.

The one no one ever knew about.

He knew Spain never meant a word of it.

That apology.

But he said nothing.

He said nothing about it.

Because.

As long as he was alive, Spain stood by him.

For some reason.

But now that he's gone…

Spain can be happy.

He doesn't have to be bothered.

With Romano anymore.

He doesn't have to worry about jealousy.

Or red cheeks.

Or bitter tears that are always just out of sight.

Or hurtful words.

The ones that came out wrong.

Because Lovino does not know how to love properly.

But that's not an issue anymore.

Now Spain is free to love Italy, like he always wanted.

* * *

><p><strong>Of Germany:<strong>

He will be relieved.

Incredibly so.

Won't have to worry about tomatoes.

Or stupid plots.

Or Italian curses.

After all, one Italy is fine.

More than enough.

If Lovino had been able to fight…

Well, it would have been different.

But.

He was just as useless at it as his brother.

So he was even more annoying.

Having an attitude like that.

And nothing to back it up.

Such a thing always annoyed Germany.

Being such a strong country himself.

On occasion, he cares about Italy.

Because.

There are times when even Germany needs a friend.

But Lovino is a friend to no one.

Someone so pitifully alone…

Someone like that shouldn't exist.

Sometimes Germany wonders about Romano.

If he's even capable of caring.

Germany thought he himself wasn't.

But Italy proved him wrong.

However.

No matter what.

Romano has never cared about anything.

That's why it's ok.

It's ok that everyone treats him like this.

He doesn't seem to care, after all.

But Germany is a firm believer.

In not disrespecting the dead.

He doesn't spit on that grave.

That of his self-proclaimed rival.

In fact, he does nothing.

Because he feels nothing for him.

This man who was never Italy.

* * *

><p><strong>Of Prussia:<strong>

He'll sneer a bit.

When he hears.

Coo over Italy a bit.

Oh, poor Ita-chan.

But he'll be laughing inside.

He'd had to have known the day would come.

That Romano was pathetic like this.

And that even though Prussia is lonely.

Though he won't admit it.

Though he says he likes being alone.

Though he is pathetic as well…

Romano is more pathetic.

At least Prussia has West.

Has Spain and France.

Has cute little Ita-chan.

Has his Gilbird.

Even he, who seems the most pathetic.

Sometimes.

He has more than Romano.

If it was Ita-chan dead.

That would be different.

Italy is cute.

Italy is charming and stupid and cute.

Romano is just rude and stupid and annoying.

He's not cute at all.

And Prussia will laugh to himself.

Knowing what the reason was.

Knowing that Romano has finally realized something.

How worthless he is.

Now, one would think.

There should have been some kinship there.

Even a little.

Because without a doubt.

These two are the loneliest countries in the world.

But there is a difference.

A large difference.

Prussia is strong.

He has always had the will to survive, and an identity.

But Romano is not Italy; he is simply nothing at all.

* * *

><p><strong>Of Turkey:<strong>

He won't hear for a little while.

Unlike the first few.

He doesn't really know Romano as well as they.

He's not as close geographically either.

But he has some history with the kid.

Back in his empire days.

He'll grin as he thinks back.

Because empires love to reminisce.

He'll remember the mouthy brat.

The shouting.

The stubbornness.

The way he never tucked his head to anyone.

As Turkey will muse to himself.

The way Spain lost everything.

Everything he had, for this kid.

And he'll laugh at that.

The complete foolishness of that.

In the end, what did he have?

Because although Turkey respected Romano's front.

That faked strength.

He knows the kid is useless.

Clumsy.

Lazy.

Just like everyone else knows.

He can see too.

That is why everyone prefers the other Italy.

Turkey has no preference, really.

Italy is more unfathomable.

A weird kid.

But Romano was a trouble to him.

Just a little.

Not too much.

But he doesn't really interact with him nowadays.

Why should he?

There's no real reason for him to.

He saw how much Spain gave up for the kid.

For no real reason at all.

And he doesn't feel like butting in there.

Because Italy or not, Romano is still useless to him.

* * *

><p><strong>Of France:<strong>

He'll be a little disappointed.

Not because he misses Romano.

No, of course not.

But he had always wanted to have them both.

Italy and Romano.

In his bed, of course.

Because that's the way France is.

He'll never get a chance now.

But life goes on.

Lovino was too feisty anyway.

Not that France didn't like that.

But he didn't want to get hurt either.

No, for sure Italy is a better choice.

He always has been.

So naïve and cute.

He wonders why Spain didn't see that.

Or maybe he knows.

That Spain had a strange sense of duty like that.

To cling in such a way.

Even when it was obvious Lovino didn't care.

Of course not.

Heartless brute of a child.

That was why Italy was better.

He had feelings.

Was warm.

Had love.

And if there is one thing France adores…

Love is it.

And it's actually a good thing.

That Romano is gone.

One less thing to defend Italy's innocence.

Not that Lovino ever cared about that.

He never cared about anything.

Surely he was just looking for a way to get France back.

For the attempts to get him as a child.

Lovino always held his grudges.

Forever and ever.

Not like Italy, who forgives in seconds.

But then, Romano was never Italy, was he.

* * *

><p><strong>Of Belgium:<strong>

She'll cry, surely.

But she hasn't really spoken to him in a while.

The most vivid memory is long ago.

When Romano was a child.

Chubby-cheeked and pouty.

And he asked her for a kiss.

That is his most vivid memory too.

Though she doesn't know it.

It's made him flustered around her for centuries.

So embarrassing.

But she'd seemed amused.

At the time.

Perhaps the memory still amused her.

She would go to Spain's house.

Comfort him.

Talk him through his pain.

Through his smiling.

Whatever hint of pain there is.

Behind his smile.

Surely not much.

But it won't matter to Belgium how little.

She has always cared about Spain.

So Romano has seen.

The two are close.

It will be a good thing.

For both of them.

Something more to bond over.

She will stay around for a while.

Cook, sing, pick tomatoes.

And then she'll leave.

Go home.

Ease back into her normal routine.

Cheery and happy.

Because Romano is not so real to her.

He really is not.

He is just a memory.

One single memory.

Of a red-faced child.

A child who was not quite Italy.

* * *

><p><strong>Of Everyone Else:<strong>

Romano does not know many people.

At least very well.

So many people do not know him.

They know he is gone.

But it doesn't affect them.

Comfort Italy.

Who is loved by the world.

And then go back.

Into daily routines.

Like nothing ever happened.

Because.

What more is there to do?

How can you mourn like that for someone?

Since you don't even know them.

Halfhearted prayers.

Good afterlives, and other things.

But.

It's certain they don't care.

Why should they?

It doesn't matter.

It is only Romano.

But who is Romano?

I don't know.

That's all they say.

It's Italy's brother.

That guy that's always grumpy.

Yes, but…

Who is he?

They don't know.

They never did.

But…

So what?

No one told them they had to.

No one cares if they don't.

No one will lash out.

Or get angry on his behalf.

Or cry for days.

Or leave him flowers wet with tears.

Because it's not Italy who died.

* * *

><p>You see now.<p>

Surely.

What I meant.

That no one is going to care.

That is why I'm doing this.

After all.

There's really no point.

No point in going on if no one cares.

Or you have no purpose.

Like me.

So… Today, I say goodbye to myself.

Goodbye, Lovino.

Because no one will say it to me.

But I knew that already.

Goodbye, Lovino.

No one cares about you.

But that just means you won't hurt anyone by leaving.

That at least is good.

I think.

Your one good deed.

You should be proud.

I don't know who will read this.

Or see it.

Maybe no one.

It's sitting at my kitchen table.

No one ever comes to my house.

I could have been spiteful.

Could have put it on the World Meeting table.

But who would it really hurt?

So I'm leaving it here.

Goodbye house.

Goodbye tomato garden.

And I can faintly imagine it.

They are saying goodbye to me too.

Goodbye, Lovino.

I don't know who will read this.

But whoever does.

If anyone does.

Now you have the truth.

Because maybe Lovino Vargas does care.

Maybe he wanted to have your attention, Nonno.

Maybe he wanted to be closer, Fratello.

Maybe he wanted to be loved, Spain.

Maybe he wanted to protect his brother, Germany.

Maybe he wanted to not be so pathetic, Prussia.

Maybe he wanted to have your respect, Turkey.

Maybe he wanted to be more than part of a set, France.

Maybe he wanted to be more than a memory, Belgium.

Maybe he wanted to exist on his own terms, World.

But maybe he just never got the chance.

Goodbye, Lovino Vargas.

Because that's all that's left to say.

Goodbye.


	2. The Deed

**A/N: So… W-wow, I got quite a few requests to make a second chapter… So I shall. Even as I write this, I'm not sure how it's gonna end, so let's find out together!**

**I don't own Hetalia**

It was 9:46 in the morning at Romano's house when he walked out the door.

Spain knew this because he had been looking down at his watch when Lovino ran into him while in the act of exiting the house. Startled, he had stumbled back a step or two. Unlike usual, Lovino said nothing of the crash, not a single insult or curse. He just moved aside and kept walking.

"O-oi, Romano!" Spain called, jogging after the Italian a bit. "Where are you going…?"

"To do something important," Lovino muttered, not even pausing. "Look, go away, Spagna!"

"B-but I wanted to visit you… Can't I just come with-?"

"_No_!"

And Spain knew from experience not to go against that tone. So he just had to watch Lovino storm away. Spain sighed, running a hand through his hair. He'd wanted to spend the day with Romano in the garden… What would he do now?

And then he noticed Romano had left his front door open.

Spain blinked, tilting his head a little.

How strange, Romano never just left his door open like that… Maybe he forgot? No, that was silly… Romano was incredibly paranoid about locking his doors, since the mafia was in his area…

In any case…

Spain ventured inside and looked around fondly. Despite any of Romano's protests otherwise… There was a familiar aura about the place that couldn't be denied. In the colors, and the positions of the rooms, and the objects inside the rooms…

It was very similar to Spain's house.

But as Spain let out a little laugh at this, he spotted something sitting on the kitchen table.

Papers, spread across the table and written in a hastily messy but familiar handwriting. Lovino's handwriting. He glanced at them for a few seconds, and then a word caught his eyes.

'Spain'

And there it was again. And again. At least once on every page, as he searched. But then he realized something else.

The word 'goodbye'.

And.

In.

A.

Quickly.

Mounting.

Panic.

Spain snatched up the papers and began to read.

'My name is Lovino Vargas.

I represent the southern half of Italy.

And today I am going to die.'

"No!"

Green eyes wide, Spain clutched the papers to his chest and ran out the door, whipping his cell phone from his pocket with his free hand. As it rang, he cursed, begging for an answer in his native tongue.

"Romano! Romano, por favor! Respóndeme! Lovi, I know you don't go anywhere without your phone, pick up!"

_(Romano, please! Answer me!)_

There was no answer.

Again and again, he tried, each time with no response.

And, no matter how far he ran, there was no sight of Lovino.

And so… Dazed, horrified, and knowing he could do nothing now…

Spain fell to his knees on the side of the road…

And began to read.

And.

As.

He.

Did.

Each word stabbed like a knife.

This was what Romano really thought of them…?

This was how he perceived they felt…?

_This?_

There were tears pricking at the corners of Antonio's green eyes when he was hailed cheerily.

"Big Brother Spain! Ciao~!"

And then there was Feliciano, one hand raised straight up in a wave, his other arm looped through one of Germany's. But Spain couldn't form any words to greet Italy. He just gave a dry sob, and held out the papers.

Confusion evident on his face, Italy took them and began to read curiously, Germany perusing the words from over the brunette's shoulder. Faster and faster Italy read, tossing papers aside as he finished, as if he couldn't believe them, as if he was searching for a final page that would kindly reassure him that this was all some horrible joke.

There was no such thing.

"G-Germany…!" Feliciano looked up at his blond companion, crying, quietly for once, and looking for comfort.

There was none to be found.

Germany was just looking down at the page with his own name on it, dumbfounded. Reading and rereading the words penned there until they were practically etched into his brain. Even then he didn't look like he understood their message any more.

"I… I let him walk out the door…" Spain said, hands clenched tightly into fists as he shook. "I didn't even think-! I just let him go…!"

"G-Germany…! W-we have to find him…!"

"Soy un idiota...! Todo es mi culpa!"

_(I'm an idiot…! It's all my fault!)_

"Germany…! P-per favore, dobbiamo andare subito! Dobbiamo trovare mio fratello! Germany!"

_(P-please, we have to go now! We have to find my brother!)_

"Me quiero morir..."

_(I want to die…)_

"SHUT UP! Both of you get ahold of yourselves!"

And then Germany had a large hand grabbing each of the crying brunettes by the collar.

"There's no way we will find him if we just run around or sit here and cry about it!" he shouted. "This needs to be done in an orderly fashion! A military fashion!"

Spain's green eyes brightened with just the barest shade of hope.

"S-so you have a plan…? Gracias, gracias, Alemania! No me olvidaré de esto!"

_(Thank you, thank you, Germany! I won't forget this!)_

The blond nodded solemnly, releasing Italy and Spain.

"Firstly… We need more people to canvass the area," he started calmly, pacing. "I'll call my brother, someone call… France. … I hate to admit it, but with his large number of message birds, he could be of great use in locating Romano."

So Germany dialed his brother and Italy called France… And Spain tried one more time to get Romano to answer his cell phone.

"Antonio, stop calling."

And he was so startled to hear that voice, Lovino's voice he was still alive he was talking to him he wasn't dead there was still a chance to stop him from dying and he just.

Almost.

Forgot.

To.

Reply.

"W-wait, Lovi! W-whatever you're doing, don't! Por favor, Lovi! D-don't die!"

"Lo siento, España."

"Lovino!"

And then he was gone.

The line went dead, and Spain was panicking, and he had to hurry, they had to hurry didn't anyone see that? There was no time to be orderly, to be military, they had to go now! Now!

So he ran.

Went alone.

No thoughts of anything but finding his Lovi and telling him everything. Holding him close and rambling in words of love until his voice gave out. Until he could see a smile come to that solemn face.

And he didn't stop running, fueled by these thoughts, until he reached a field of sunflowers that he remember his Lovi had taken great pride in. His little Sicilian suns.

And.

He.

Saw.

It just so happened that France's Pierre had spotted something quite quickly. And so everyone went racing, from different directions.

And it had been so easy to gather so many people…

Because they had arrived for the Italies' birthday celebration.

To be held the next day.

It was the day before their birthday…

And so they had to stop Romano, if only to let him see this birthday.

To set things straight.

So they all converged on that place…

Belgium from the north, where she had been informed by Italy while heading to take Romano an early birthday present.

Germany from the west.

Turkey from the east, where he had just arrived in the country.

Italy from the northwest.

France from the northeast.

Prussia from the southwest.

… Spain from the southeast.

A light from the south.

Something like a star…

A man whose eyes were tired with wisdom and foolishness and everything that comes with family.

The light of Rome…

The light of Rome from the south.

And.

Facing the sky like a prophet or an angel…

Lovino himself, in the middle.

They all met in that place.

A strange sort of circle.

A center and eight petals.

A gun pressed tightly to the temple of.

The one everyone had been searching for.

And he smiled like there was nothing there to smile about.

He smiled like the world was ending, smiled like jagged edges of broken glass.

Smiled like a man long dead.

His fingers twitched on the trigger.

And then…

Something happened.

I'll let you decide how this tale ends…

If one of any eight people was able to save the life of Lovino Vargas.

Or if blood was the only answer to this story.

But either way the ending goes…

They say that nine people said goodbye that day.

Goodbye to unbestowed attention.

Goodbye to lacking brotherly ties.

Goodbye to unspoken love.

Goodbye to not being able to protect those you care for.

Goodbye to faked strength.

Goodbye to respect unearned.

Goodbye to suppressed individuality.

Goodbye to vivid memories.

Goodbye to Lovino Vargas.


End file.
